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He stalked around his loft like a thundercloud in boots, jaw clenched, tension rolling off him in waves thick enough to choke on. Every step echoed a warning shot to stay back.
His expression was carved from stone, eyebrows pinched as though someone had asked him to explain feelings. The wolves, banshee, and humans in the pack knew better than to test him when he got like this. They gave him space, keeping their distance without a word.
Derek knew what his brooding looked like. He knew exactly how menacing he came off when he paced similar to a caged predator and scowled at the floor as if it owed him money.
He just... didn't care. Not that week. Not with everything gnawing at him.
Not until Scott showed up, uninvited, as usual. He barely had time to glance at the door before it creaked open and Scott waltzed in with a grin, all sunshine and bad timing.
"What?" Derek snapped, arms folding tightly over his chest.
Scott breezed right past him, unfazed. "Nice to see you too, man," he said, voice full of exaggerated cheer.
Derek growled under his breath but didn't stop him. The kid was still the True Alpha, after all... and he had chosen to be part of this absurd, chaotic, touchy-feely pack.
Maybe someone's pretty amber eyes had something to do with that decision.
He followed Scott into the living room, silently looming as the younger alpha plopped onto the couch with the entitlement of someone who owned the place. Scott patted the cushion beside him with a lazy grin.
Derek stared at it as if it had personally offended him, then sat down stiffly.
"Relax, man! This isn't an alpha-to-beta performance review or anything," Scott said quickly, scratching the back of his neck. "I mean, it could be, technically, but that's not the vibe."
Derek’s eyes narrowed. He turned toward Scott with a glare that could burn straight through him. Explain yourself or be eaten—that was his type of vibe.
Scott held up his hands in defense. "Okay, okay! Chill. The pack's just... concerned."
"Concerned," Derek repeated, voice flat and deeply unimpressed.
Scott winced, his smile cracking. "Yeah. Uh. You kinda made Isaac cry yesterday. Over sparring techniques. And Lydia said she's not coming back until you get laid."
Derek froze. His entire body went stiff like someone had poured cement down his spine.
"We're just wondering," Scott said, painfully casual, "when the last time was that you had some fun. And if, like... you needed help finding someone?"
The temperature in the room rose a full ten degrees. Derek flushed, a furious red blooming up his neck. His eyes went wide with pure, primal horror. He shot to his feet so fast the couch groaned under the sudden absence of his weight.
"Not that we think you need help!" Scott added, panicked, hands waving in a desperate-looking attempt to catch the words and shove them back into his mouth.
Derek's face was murderous. Of all the people in the world to have this conversation with, it had to be Scott McCall?
He didn't even growl. He just stormed forward, grabbed Scott by the collar, and marched him toward the front door.
Scott squeaked, "Okay, fair enough, I get it. Ouch! Personal boundaries."
Derek deposited him just outside the loft, then, to Scott's surprise, actually smoothed the kid’s shirt the way a disapproving uncle might. "Don't ever ask me that again," he growled.
Then the door slammed shut with a finality that rattled the hinges. Scott blinked at the closed door. "I'm still the alpha!" he shouted.
No response.
He flinched and whirled around, sprinting for the jeep parked out front. Inside, Stiles was sitting behind the wheel, chewing his thumbnail. He looked up with hope in his eyes, until Scott shook his head.
“No luck,” Scott said. “But his face? Lit up like a Christmas tree. He hasn’t been laid.”
Stiles dissolved into laughter, doubling over and slapping the steering wheel. “You look so pale!”
Scott groaned and flopped into the passenger seat. “Remind me never to let you come up with ideas again.”
Stiles waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. Drama queen. Did he smell weird or anything?” Without waiting for an answer, he started the engine and drove off down the street.
Scott hesitated, eyes narrowing as he replayed the moment. “Embarrassed. Angry. But mostly lonely. It hit hard, dude. Like… fairy tale lonely. Or Rapunzel lonely.”
“Oh, Derek, let down your dark hair!” Stiles cried in the worst accent imaginable.
Scott snorted, fingers tapping the dashboard, but his expression shifted, thoughtful and distant, a puzzle piece struggling to snap into place. Something about all of this just didn’t add up.
Because Derek hadn’t acted like a guy who was just looking for a hookup. He hadn’t glanced at anyone lately. Not the pretty pack members, not the flirtatious baristas, not even the hot backup dancers during that wild jungle rave last month.
Except…
Except Stiles.
Scott’s eyes widened as the memory slammed into him. Derek’s eyes hadn’t just glanced at Stiles. They had locked onto him, tracing every awkward sway of his hips, every ridiculous, nervous wave of his arms. There was something intense in that look—the promise of being pulled in and never let go.
Scott had been so disgusted by the thought back then that he shoved it deep out of his mind. He buried it where he wouldn’t have to face it until now. “Oh shit,” Scott’s voice cut through the air.
Stiles turned his head and held Scott’s gaze a moment too long, eyes wide and searching. “What?”
“Pull over. Pull over, I need to tell you something. This can’t wait.”
Distracted by the weight in Scott’s eyes, Stiles cursed under his breath and jerked the wheel. The tires screamed as the jeep skidded wildly.
Scott lunged forward and grabbed the wheel, muscles straining to wrestle control as they slammed onto the shoulder. The jeep jolted harshly, bouncing once before coming to a rough stop.
Stiles huffed an irritated breath, shooting daggers at Scott with his eyes. Scott ignored the glare, too caught up in his latest discovery. “I hope your dad pulls you over one day,” he grinned.
Stiles gaped, insulted, then wildly pointed at the road and flailed his arms toward Scott. “You almost killed us! I’m only nineteen, Scotty! Way too young to die.” He slumped back into his seat, finally catching his breath. “Seriously, what was that? We were seconds away from starring in Final Destination.”
Scott rolled his eyes, clearly used to this. “Oh, relax. It wouldn’t have been—”
“Yeah, yeah, dude. You tried to kill me.”
“It wouldn’t have been anything like Final Destination, but you’ve got to listen.”
“Nobody wants to die young! How do you think my dad would react? He’d probably show up at my funeral dressed like a ninja.”
“I think I figured out Derek’s problem, and it’s—”
“How would the pack survive without me? They’d turn into savage teenagers, robbing McDonald’s for fries and drinking straight from the lake.”
“For fuck’s sake, Stiles!” The car fell unusually quiet, the chaos dying down so Scott could finally get a word in. “I think Derek wants to toss your salad or something,” he said, deadpan.
“What are you talking about?” Stiles looked at him, confused. “Toss my salad? My dad’s the only one who eats salad because seriously, fuck that. And why would Derek even toss it?” He huffed, rolling his eyes when Scott dramatically slammed his head against the dashboard.
“Oh gross! I mean he wants to play with your lightsaber.”
“My lightsaber? What the actual fuck are you talking about? How does he even know I have one? Wait, how did you know? I hid that thing in the back of my closet!” Stiles cringed as Scott shot him a hard glare.
Scott puffed out a breath, annoyed, then glanced back at him with shy eyes. “Sorry, you just really never shut up,” he admitted. Stiles reached over and tried to smack Scott’s shoulder, but with his werewolf strength, the blow barely landed.
Instead, Stiles ended up smashing his own hand against Scott’s solid muscle. Scott groaned softly, while Stiles immediately started shaking his hand, cradling it against his chest.
“Ow, fuck!” he cursed. “What does Derek want with my stuff?” He carefully pried at his fingers, hoping they weren’t broken from the awkward hit.
Silence settled over the car.
The only sound was the rush of cars passing by so fast the jeep occasionally rocked. Stiles glanced up at the dark clouds and sighed, shifting in his seat to look at his best friend.
Scott’s brown eyes flicked up, but all Stiles could see was a slightly disgusted expression. “Derek wants to defile you in every way possible and I hate that you have been whining ‘oh pity me’ since high school while the signs were right under your nose.”
Stiles winced at the harsh tone, a whining sound rising in his throat. “C’mon, Scotty, ease up on the human. I’m pretty much the biggest idiot on this planet,” he pouted, hands trembling as he gripped the wheel.
Scott wasn’t telling the truth. At least not in Stiles’ book, so all he wanted was to get home and brood the way Derek usually did.
“As fun as this stop was, it’s gonna start pouring soon and I should probably swing on home…” Stiles trailed off as Scott shoved him.
“Dude, what?” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in defeat.
“The only swinging you’ll be doing tonight is on Derek’s monkey bars! If you don’t ring his bell at least twice before tomorrow morning’s training, I’ll literally ring your neck,” Scott said sternly, but Stiles caught a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
He rolled his eyes despite the bright pink blush coloring his cheeks and tried to distract himself by glancing over his shoulder to slip back onto the road.
“What’s with all the weird analogies, man? It’s really confusing me, and we all know how you got down in high school. There’s not a shy bone in your body when it comes to—” The human yelped in agony as Scott pinched his skin. “Ow, fucking hell!”
“Please talk to Derek,” the werewolf begged, suddenly serious. “I’m sorry I was harsh… Dude, we all know you guys are in weird love and you saved your ass virg—”
“For the love of all that is holy, please shut your mouth. I seriously hate you right now.” Stiles pulled up to the curb by Scott’s house, muttering obscenities under his breath as his best friend climbed out of the jeep, slinging his book bag over one shoulder.
“Don’t mess this up, Stiles. He really needs you and you need him, so do this good, for the pack,” Scott said, raising his fist dramatically, his head tilted to the sky as a light sprinkle began.
Stiles blinked silently for a moment, then couldn’t hold it back any longer. He burst out laughing. “Get out of my jeep.” He grinned and fist-bumped the werewolf’s extended hand.
Scott shot him a wide grin and slammed the door shut. Stiles watched him run up to the front door, slipping inside with a swift wave.
He sat there for a few minutes, replaying the loud conversation they’d just had. It wasn’t really an argument.
Honestly, greasy curly fries and a never-ending milkshake were what he craved to calm his nerves, but his stomach fluttered with the hopeful thought that Derek actually wanted him back.
The very fact that he’d rushed to Derek’s loft was telling. Stiles Stilinski was choosing broody Derek Hale over his beloved diner food. What could he say? He was completely whipped for the werewolf, and if there was any chance to soften Derek’s snappy attitude, who was he to stand back and do nothing?
——————
The drive hadn’t taken long, but the rain was coming down in sheets. Stiles could barely see the road, the storm drowning out everything except the pounding of his heart. He parked and stepped out, instantly drenched as the downpour soaked him to the bone.
He didn’t rush inside. Instead, he took his time, sneakers sinking into the muddy ground, cold drops pelting him like the nerves thrumming through his chest.
By the time he reached the stairs, Derek was already there, leaning against the loft doorway. His eyes flicked down to scan Stiles from head to toe.
Stiles shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold rain. Derek raised a single, impressive eyebrow and tilted his head before pushing off the wall. “Come,” he muttered.
Suddenly, Stiles felt entirely inappropriate, his cock pulsing hard against his jeans at the thought of Derek controlling his orgasm. Fuck, that was so hot.
Wet from head to toe and shaking, Stiles resembled a chihuahua, but he couldn’t help noticing how Derek’s back muscles stretched the green henley tight across his arms.
His mouth watered as if he were the goddamn wolf himself. Scott would definitely jump in with dog jokes if he were here, paying back years of teasing.
Stiles finally stepped inside the loft, the heat wrapping around him as a shield. Derek’s low chuckle echoed behind him as the door slammed shut, the lock clicking tight and final. Stiles froze, every nerve alert and buzzing. Being locked inside with Derek, just the two of them, stirred something chaotic in his chest.
Derek moved closer, heat radiating from him, his frown mixing concern with something darker and heavier in the air between them. “Take your clothes off,” Derek said quietly, his voice rough. “You’ll get sick.” His eyes flicked down to the soaked denim and flannel clinging to Stiles’ skin.
The warmth creeping up Stiles’ neck and face wasn’t from the loft. Derek’s growl pressed against him, breath brushing near his ear, making his pulse race.
Stiles’ hands shook as he pulled at his clothes, stripping them away despite the chill prickling his bare skin. He felt Derek’s eyes on him, slow, careful, and reverent, as if seeing every part of him for the first time.
Derek nodded once and turned toward the bedroom. “I’ll start the shower,” he said over his shoulder. Stiles shivered again, vulnerability settling hard.
Derek returned quickly with a towel and a quiet smile, but Stiles was too nervous to respond. Damp hair fell messily over his forehead, his chest glistening with cold droplets, pale against the flicker of heat spreading through him. Derek’s gaze traced the path of every mole and freckle like memorizing a secret map.
Their eyes met, Derek’s forest green locking with Stiles’ amber, and he felt rooted in place. Standing in nothing but boxers, he realized how much he wanted this, wanted Derek to see every part of him.
“Come on,” Derek gestured toward the stairs. “Let’s get you warm.”
Together they moved up the stairs, steam waiting to envelop them both. They stopped side by side in the bathroom, the air heavy with everything left unsaid and all that was about to change.
Stiles glanced at the stand-up shower with glass walls, water pouring steadily from both showerheads. His eyes wandered around the room, resting on a red built-in tub that had obviously been chosen by Derek himself.
The thought made him shiver. He imagined Derek installing it with skilled hands, maybe even soaking in it after a long day. Bubble baths with a werewolf pressed against his back was a dangerous image that refused to leave his mind.
Derek’s voice cut through the silence, low and teasing. “Not sure if you need to be told to get in the shower, but I might be wrong.” His dark, expressive eyebrows lifted in challenge.
Heat rushed to Stiles’ cheeks, burning bright. His gaze dropped to his body, nerves tightening his throat as he hesitated over the last piece of clothing clinging to him.
The thought that Derek would see everything, bare skin and arousal, was both terrifying and electrifying. He wanted Derek’s hands on him. He wanted Derek to look at him and want him, but the fear tangled with desire made his heart pound faster and his skin buzz with anticipation.
The tension between them filled the room, stretching each moment into something endless.
He tipped his chin up, thumbing at the waistband of his boxers as he caught Derek watching him. There was hunger in the werewolf’s eyes, something hot and weighty that made Stiles’ breath catch in his throat.
That look did something to him, made his skin feel too tight and his blood burn.
He couldn’t help but wonder what Derek was thinking as those eyes dragged over him. Stiles had filled out in the last few years, and he knew it. His hair had grown longer, soft enough to tug, and his shoulders had finally broadened into something he wasn’t embarrassed about.
His stomach wasn’t cut, but there was enough tone to feel confident. The thought of Derek seeing all of that, actually noticing, sent a dizzy thrill through him.
He swallowed hard as he slid his boxers down over his hips and thighs. The fabric hit the tile with a wet splat, and he stood there, bare and flushed, heart thudding quickly.
He didn’t look away. If Derek wanted to stare, he wasn’t going to stop him. The heat in the room felt like it had a pulse of its own, one that matched the ache building in his belly.
His cock was already hard, flushed dark and leaking, and the air teasingly kissed over his skin. Derek’s silence only made it worse, stretching the moment until it felt unbearable. Stiles turned to open the shower door, throwing a glance over his shoulder.
Derek’s expression hadn’t changed. Still intense. Still watching. The way Derek was looking at him made it hard to breathe, with every inch of skin feeling touched without contact.
“Waiting for me to join?” Derek asked, a quiver betraying his calm tone.
The question sent a shock through Stiles. His body reacted before his mouth could. He nodded once, then again, too shy to meet Derek’s eyes. The mist of the water reached out to greet him when he stepped inside and gently pulled the door closed.
Inside the shower, steam curled thick around Stiles, coating the glass in a foggy blur. The heat helped with the shivering, but not with the anxiety.
His pulse hadn’t calmed since he stepped into the loft, and now, standing naked with water rolling down his back, he was more exposed than ever. The only thing between him and Derek was a thin wall of condensation.
He couldn’t help himself.
With one hand, he reached out and swiped the palm of his hand across the glass, clearing a streak big enough to see through. His breath caught.
Derek stood just outside, fingers hooked under his shirt. He yanked it over his head in one smooth, impatient motion and let it fall to the floor. Stiles bit the inside of his cheek, watching as Derek worked the buckle of his belt, chest rising and falling as if he was holding back something sharp and hungry.
The moment his jeans and boxers hit the floor, Derek stepped out of them and moved toward the shower without hesitation.
Stiles spun around to face the water, his heart pounding louder with every step Derek took. The door slid open, and Derek stepped inside. Water beaded instantly on his skin, his body solid and close, yet still not touching.
Stiles leaned back before he could think better of it, his damp skin meeting the heat of Derek’s chest. The contact sent a wave of sensation rolling through him. Derek was warm and strong behind him, hands hovering close, then finally settling on his hips.
The grip was possessive in the softest way, like Derek had been waiting for this moment just as long.
Stiles tried to speak, but his throat was tight. “I—” he started, voice hardly more than a whisper.
Derek leaned down, his breath brushing against the side of Stiles’ neck. “Talk to me,” he muttered, lips ghosting over the skin just beneath his ear. “Why’d you come over?”
Stiles shut his eyes and let the heat soak into his bones. He didn’t have the words yet. But he had this—Derek’s touch, the water between them, and the quiet promise blooming in the space where they stood pressed together.
Stiles exhaled slowly, folding his hands over Derek’s where they gripped his hips. He loved how strong that hold felt, how secure. “Scott told me,” his voice hesitant, “in the weirdest way possible, that you… wanted me.” He rolled his eyes and gestured vaguely down the length of his body. “Wanted to get all up on this or whatever.”
He risked a glance back, instantly regretting it. Derek looked stupidly good, face lit in gold from the overhead light, water sliding over the sharp cut of his cheekbones, down his throat, across broad shoulders. Stiles swallowed hard.
“I just don’t want your body for one night,” he added, voice quieter now, more serious.
Derek didn’t say anything right away. His eyebrows lifted slightly, expression unreadable, but his hands moved, rough palms sliding up and down Stiles’ arms in a soothing rhythm.
Then he leaned closer, lips brushing skin behind Stiles’ ear, voice filled with something affectionate. “What do you want, baby?”
The words cracked something open in Stiles. The endearment echoed through him, deep and lingering, and the heat of the water helped settle the storm in his chest.
“I want all the benefits that come with you,” he said. “I want to come here and call this place my home someday. On the bad days, I want us to curl up in that sexy tub and talk like we’re sharing secrets no one else gets to hear. Then you’d carry me to bed and make me forget my own name. You’d hold me after, whisper how much you love me.”
He stared straight ahead, watching the water run down the tiled wall, too scared to look at Derek’s face. His words were unraveling now, tumbling faster.
“You’d probably get up in the morning before me,” he continued, a nervous smile tugging at his lips, “because my ass would be too sore from your ridiculous werewolf dick.” He rocked back, letting his hips press into Derek’s. The growl that rumbled behind him sent a delicious shiver through his core.
“Someone would make breakfast, and we’d eat it in bed. Then you’d wreck me all over again,” he said, his voice shaking slightly, more from emotion than nerves now. “We’d go out to dinner, or maybe you’d do some sweet, quiet wolfy thing that makes me want to cry. And I’d never stop showing you how much I love you.”
Derek’s hands tightened around his waist, spinning him gently until they were face to face. Stiles met his eyes with something open. He didn’t blink. Didn’t hide.
Everything he’d said still hung between them, heavy and real. He wasn’t going to take any of it back.
Stiles let his hands rest against Derek’s chest, fingers spreading over wet skin. He traced upward, watching closely as Derek shivered beneath his touch. It made something tender swell inside him. He slid his hands to those broad shoulders, gripping lightly, grounding them both.
His eyes locked on Derek’s. “Whenever I’m visiting, I’ll come straight back to you. Even if you pushed me away, Derek, I’d still run back. I don’t know what I deserve. Maybe the world. But you do too. Every part of you, even the sourwolf parts. That’s what I love.”
His voice cracked slightly at the edges, but he cupped Derek’s cheeks, thumbs brushing gently over cheekbones. Derek’s eyes fluttered closed as he drew in a deep breath. “All of it,” Derek said, the words thick with certainty. “I want all of it with you.”
Before Stiles could speak, Derek leaned in and caught his lips in a kiss that tasted like relief. They both sighed into it, mouths fitting together like something long overdue.
It started slow, lips brushing and pulling back, only to come together again with more heat and more need. Then Derek’s fangs grazed Stiles’ bottom lip in a teasing nip, and he moaned, hands slipping clumsily as he pulled Derek even closer.
Derek’s tongue licked into his mouth, hot and insistent, claiming every breath. It left Stiles dizzy and desperate. He clung to Derek, afraid the water would wash him away if he let go.
Then Derek pulled back, reaching for the shampoo. Stiles made a small sound of protest, breathless and pouting until he caught the amused smile on Derek’s face. He rolled his eyes with affection and tipped his head back under the water, letting it soak into his hair.
The moment he did, Derek rumbled deep in his chest.
Stiles laughed, eyes still closed as the water cascaded down his throat in slow rivulets. He felt the shift in Derek’s presence an instant before the wolf pressed closer again, licking a slow line up the exposed length of his neck.
The heat of it made Stiles whimper. Derek dragged his tongue back down, then circled a spot just above his collarbone that had Stiles gasping and tugging at his damp hair.
The low growl that followed vibrated against his skin. Then teeth, blunt and sure, bit down on the tendon in his neck. His knees nearly gave out.
He trembled in Derek’s arms, barely able to breathe as he gasped, “Please.” The word fell from lips now red and swollen from kissing, his voice wrecked and pleading.
“Let me wash us,” Derek’s voice was rough with arousal.
Stiles didn’t argue. He simply turned around and tipped his head back, sighing the moment strong fingers began working shampoo into his scalp. The way Derek massaged, sent tingles skittering down his spine. His whole body went pliant under the touch, and by the time Derek ran soapy hands down his chest and over his legs, Stiles felt like he might melt into the tile.
Derek didn’t let him lift a finger. Every inch of Stiles was touched, cleaned, and cherished without haste, but with very little subtlety. It was as though Derek had decided pampering was a form of worship.
When they stepped out of the shower, Derek grabbed the plush towel and dried himself quickly, then turned his full attention to Stiles.
The towel was soft, but the hands guiding it over his skin were firm and careful. Stiles stood dazed under the attention, swaying slightly when Derek walked across the bathroom to hang the towel up.
Then the world tilted.
He yelped, arms flailing as Derek lifted him easily, one strong arm under his legs and the other cradling his back. “I wasn’t actually expecting to be carried,” he squawked, voice pitching higher with surprise as Derek carried him into the bedroom like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The bed was massive and inviting, and Stiles landed on it with a soft bounce, blinking up at the man who hovered above him.
And yeah, he definitely looked.
Because Derek, standing gloriously naked in the light, was impossible not to stare at. Muscled and broad, cut from marble, and very obviously aroused. Stiles swallowed hard.
If he could go back and tell his awkward, fumbling younger self that one day he’d steal the brooding werewolf’s heart and end up in his bed, he’d probably laugh until he cried.
A tremor ran through him when Derek’s eyes raked over his body. That wolfish grin, full of heat and confidence, sent goosebumps racing across his skin.
“You look so fucking good,” Derek groaned as he reached out, sliding one hand up Stiles’ thigh before giving it a tight squeeze.
Stiles choked out a whimper, hips stuttering upward in a helpless thrust. “Derek, please,” he breathed.
Derek climbed onto the bed, settling between his legs with the ease of someone who had waited far too long for this moment. “I love it when you beg,” he murmured, brushing their lips together in a teasing kiss. “Gonna have you crying for it.”
He dragged his nose down the length of Stiles’ neck, lips ghosting over heated skin. Stiles gave another shallow thrust, need overwhelming any attempt at patience.
“I knew you’d be this responsive,” Derek said, almost to himself, tongue licking a line up Stiles’ chest. When he flicked over a nipple and drew it into his mouth, the sound that tore from Stiles was downright obscene.
His brain short-circuited.
All he could feel was heat, friction, and an ache in his gut. “Fingers,” he gasped, arching his back and chasing Derek’s hand as it brushed his skin. “Now.”
Derek latched onto the same nipple again, sucking hard as his fingers ghosted lower. Stiles groaned in frustration, his legs wrapping tightly around Derek’s waist. “C’mon, big guy. Get the damn lube,” he whined.
Derek just smirked, eyes glinting with wicked satisfaction. He didn’t bother reaching for the lube. Instead, he shifted down the bed and lowered himself to his stomach, every movement that of a predator preparing to feast. His arms hooked beneath Stiles’ thighs and locked around them, dragging him forward with a hungry growl.
Stiles gasped as his back arched, the sheets twisting under him. He was shaking already, barely able to breathe. The way Derek moved was deliberate like he wanted to savor it.
The heat of Derek’s breath hit him first. It rushed across his exposed skin, lingering over the most sensitive part of him. It made his cock twitch. His stomach clenched. His fingers shot into Derek’s hair, anchoring tight as he tried to brace himself.
Then Derek licked him.
The first stroke of his tongue was broad and so wet that Stiles nearly sobbed. It dragged over him with a filthy sort of reverence, leaving heat and slick behind. Derek didn’t stop. His tongue moved again, firmer this time, circling and pressing with precision. Stiles could only whimper.
His hips bucked forward, seeking more, but the instant Derek’s tongue dipped a little too deep, he jerked back with a gasp. The overstimulation made his head spin, but the craving kept him moving, grinding forward again with a broken moan.
He couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to.
Derek groaned into him, mouth working with intensity. The sound vibrated through him, a rumble that settled into Stiles’ bones and made his toes curl. Stiles couldn’t tell if he was moaning or begging. His lips moved constantly, breath spilling out in helpless gasps as he held onto Derek for dear life.
The werewolf licked deeper, tongue driving purposefully, and Stiles thought his vision might actually go white.
He clawed at the sheets, then back into Derek’s hair. His chest rose and fell in uneven bursts. His eyes welled with tears, not from pain but from overwhelming pleasure, from the way Derek touched him, treating him as something special.
“Please,” he choked out.
Derek’s grip on him only tightened, holding him open, keeping him right there. His mouth didn’t let up. His tongue worked him open with practiced greedy strokes. Every flick, every suck, every wet swirl made Stiles feel like he was falling apart.
He was coming undone. Not just from the pleasure, but from the way Derek gave it. Unyielding. Focused. Like Stiles was his, and he was going to prove it.
Stiles tugged hard on Derek’s hair, eyes glassy with need. Derek shifted, sitting up with a strained whine, his beta blue eyes burning into Stiles’. He panted, “Hm?”
“I need you so bad,” Stiles whispered, stomach flexing as hands caressed him. “You’ve got to fuck me. I can’t wait any longer.” His hands found Derek’s shoulders, pulling him close until their bodies pressed together in a needy embrace.
Derek hummed, a sound full of satisfaction and promise. Without breaking eye contact, he reached for the drawer beside the bed and pulled out a bottle.
He sat up, hovering over Stiles, eyes dark with hunger as he watched the younger man spread his legs without hesitation. “You already know what I want,” he purred, dipping lube over his fingers and coating them thoroughly before teasing the sensitive, fluttering entrance. “You’re such a good boy, huh?”
Stiles gasped sharply as Derek’s finger slipped inside, pushing with practiced ease. His head tossed back, breath catching in a moan. “Oh fuck, I didn’t know that did it for me.”
Derek smirked, confidence shining in his eyes as he slid in a second finger, filling Stiles quickly. “I think I just do it for you,” he murmured, running the tips of his claws gently along one taut thigh.
Stiles writhed beneath him, hips pressing into the touch, craving more. The sensation pricked at his skin, making him shiver.
“If a different werewolf tried this shit, I’d kick their ass,” Stiles huffed, breath shaky but defiant.
Derek didn’t answer with words. Instead, he shoved three fingers inside him roughly, his growl full of displeasure. Stiles’ eyes glazed over as he stared up at the wolf looming above him, whining loud as Derek pushed faster, hitting his prostate dead on.
His head fell back, lips parting in a silent, breathless ‘oh,’ tears slipping down his flushed cheeks.
“No one,” Derek snarled, yanking his fingers free with a cruel laugh just as Stiles’ eyes snapped open, arms reaching out.
“You do realize no one else will ever get a chance to touch you again?” Derek said with a dark promise burning in his eyes.
“I’ll make sure of it.” His grin flashed sharp fangs as his body pressed down against Stiles.
“I don’t want anyone else,” Stiles groaned, watching Derek reach between them and grasp himself. He couldn’t look away, frozen in a haze of lust, moaning wantonly as Derek stroked, eyes roaming over his twitching body.
“Fuck, this is so much better than curly fries,” Stiles gasped as Derek lifted his hips. He curled his legs tightly around Derek’s forearms.
And Derek finally lined himself up. He settled between Stiles’ legs, one hand gripping his hip, the other cradling his thigh. His breath caught in his throat, like he knew exactly how much Stiles was about to feel.
Stiles looked up at him, eyes wide, heart slamming against his ribs. His stomach twisted, nerves and arousal fighting for space in his chest.
Then Derek began to push in.
Stiles gasped, hands fisting the pillow beneath his head as the stretch hit him hard. The burn was sharp and sudden, tearing through him with a force that made his entire body jolt.
It was too much and not enough. His muscles caught between bracing and giving in, every inch of intrusion making him feel more undone.
He hadn’t expected this. Not the way it would take him apart from the inside, not the way his body reacted, unable to decide whether to flee or drag Derek impossibly closer.
His breathing faltered. His chest heaved. It felt raw and intrusive, something sacred being rewritten in his bones.
“Breathe,” Derek whispered, thumbs rubbing slow circles into his hips. “You’re doing good.”
That voice grounded him. Stiles let out a shaky breath, clinging to Derek’s touch and the unbearable fullness crashing through him. When Derek finally settled fully inside him, their bodies pressed together with nothing left between them. He felt claimed in a way he could never take back.
And he wanted more. Every inch, every second. He wanted all of it.
Derek’s grin twisted wickedly as his eyes darkened with hunger. He lowered his voice, rolling out like a promise. “You’re doing so good, baby, but you won’t get those curly fries until after I’m balls deep inside you, fucking you raw and leaving my mark everywhere.”
“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard,” Stiles laughed, delirious with need, eyes locked on Derek as he pushed his legs higher, hooking them over those impossibly strong shoulders. The move folded Stiles almost in half, exposing him completely.
Derek bared his teeth, then pulled out only to snap his hips forward again with brutal force. He tipped over, holding himself pinned above Stiles’s trembling form.
Stiles whimpered at the new angle, digging his heels into Derek’s back and yanking him down to press skin to skin. “Fuck, I could already write an essay on how good you fuck me,” he moaned, voice thick with longing.
The werewolf pressed loving kisses along Stiles’ jawline as he rocked upward, their bodies pushing and shoving against each other with urgent hunger. Derek’s growl deepened. “Hm, what else would you do, college boy?” His eyes flickered fiercely as his wolf struggled to stay controlled.
Stiles gasped, pressing his cheek against Derek’s rough beard, rubbing his face like a kitten craving comfort. His hips stuttered in the air, trembling with every frantic breath. “Oh God, anything,” he cried, cheeks flushing a vivid shade of pink. “I’ll do anything for you to keep fucking me.”
Derek grinned, the edges of his mouth twitching as he dropped his head to press against Stiles’ neck. His teeth sank in gently, leaving dark claim marks that burned against the skin. “Yeah? Tell me who’s you are.”
Before Stiles could react, Derek flipped him over mid-thrust. The world spun wildly as Stiles found himself straddling Derek’s hips, riding him hard and fast. Stars exploded behind his eyes with every slam.
Derek snapped his teeth near Stiles’ ear, demanding. “Come on, baby. Tell me.”
Stiles’ body went limp as he collapsed against Derek’s solid chest, crying softly into his neck. The wolf thrust his hips up so fast Stiles felt dizzy with need, every one driving him closer to the edge. His cock throbbed, pressed hard between their bodies, desperate to release.
“Yours! I’m fucking yours, holy shit! I want to come, Der. Please make me come,” Stiles sobbed, wrapping his hands tightly around Derek’s arms, his body twitching and jerking uncontrollably.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” Derek murmured, lifting Stiles’s chin with one hand before crashing their lips together in a messy kiss. He thrust upward, stabbing his cock against Stiles’ prostate with quick, merciless jabs that stole the younger man’s breath.
As Derek found that perfect spot inside him, tears spilled down Stiles’ cheeks, tracing wet lines onto Derek’s neck. Stiles whimpered, pushing his hips back to meet every powerful thrust, his mind narrowing until all he could think about was the release building inside.
“Come without me touching you, Stiles,” the werewolf whispered into his ear, groaning as Stiles let out a broken whimper.
Derek rolled his hips to stroke that tight bundle of nerves again and again. Stiles’ eyes flew open, meeting Derek’s fierce gaze. The wolf’s hand slid up to Stiles’ neck, squeezing gently, a wild grin spreading across his face when he whined and his body spasmed in his grasp.
“Fuck, fuck! Der—Oh fuck, Derek!” Stiles’ eyes rolled back as his body shook violently, ropes of release shooting past his chest and splattering across his neck and chin.
Derek went wild at the sight, his thrusts becoming almost inhuman, quick and relentless. He pushed inside Stiles so fast that the younger man couldn’t help but sink his full weight into him. His frantic eyes locked on Derek’s face, flushed and blissed out.
“Come in me, please!” Stiles cried, meeting every punishing thrust.
A raw, powerful howl tore from Derek’s lips as his hips jerked again and again, pulsing inside Stiles as he came repeatedly within the warm, tight heat of his body.
“Fuck, love you, baby,” Derek muttered against Stiles’s temple, pressing a tender kiss there. “So good,” he purred as waves of his release flooded into Stiles, filling him so completely that the human couldn’t stop the needy whimpers escaping him.
“I love you and your come,” Stiles muttered, voice thick and breathless as Derek carefully rolled them onto their sides.
His head lolled to rest against Derek’s neck, eyes fluttering closed. “Gimme like ten minutes,” he huffs.
The loft finally fell silent as the two men tried to catch their breaths. Stiles felt Derek start to move again and panicked, squeezing his arms tight around the wolf’s strong torso.
“Stay inside me,” he whimpered, but Derek only laughed with delight and adjusted them, settling Stiles onto his lap for a second round.
Stiles couldn’t help the twitch in his still-hard cock as Derek pressed into him. “Der, baby,” he cried, squirming with need. Derek wrapped him close, planting his feet firmly on the bed while Stiles’ legs bracketed his waist.
“My Stiles,” Derek murmured into his sweat-damp hair. Stiles whined, choking on his breath as the werewolf fucked into him again.
“More?” Derek purred, rubbing his thumb against the side of Stiles’s face.
“Yeah, more,” Stiles agreed, his ass clenching in reluctant anticipation while his cock hardened even further. “Take whatever you want,” he gasped as Derek picked up a punishing rhythm.
Stiles found himself sitting up, but Derek’s hands forced him back, pressing him to lean against his thighs. His eyes went wide, hands clutching Derek’s legs for support as his back hit the firm muscles beneath him. He sobbed at the ceiling, broken gasps escaping his lips while Derek drove into him harder and faster than before.
The loud slapping of skin against skin filled the room, mixed with Derek’s low growls and the occasional murmured names—“Stiles” and “Mine”—as he lost himself in the moment.
Stiles watched his angry red cock bounce in the air, slapping against his stomach with every thrust. His belly burned, another orgasm building quickly as precum slicked his length and dripped over the drying patches of old come on his skin.
“Oh fuck. You’re so hot, Der,” he whimpered, locking eyes with the frantic wolf. Derek’s eyes tracked every movement before he leaned over Stiles, pinning his arms to the bed and licking at the mess coating his upper body.
Stiles scrambled to grip the sheets as Derek lifted him slightly, cleaning him with deliberate licks of his tongue. The rush of pleasure slowed and then stopped altogether as Derek slipped out. Stiles gasped, a sound of protest as the werewolf forced him down onto the bed.
“Shh, baby. Let me come on your face,” Derek groaned with desire, kneeling up Stiles’s body as he jerked himself off above his face. Stiles moaned in surprise, fingers tightening on Derek’s ass.
“Fuck, you look so ready for my come,” Derek growled, thrusting shakily into his fist. Stiles opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.
Derek hummed in delight, speeding up as he fucked his fist. His stomach clenched tight and he threw his head back, moaning at the ceiling as his come painted Stiles’s mouth, dripping hot onto his cheeks and even his hairline.
Then Derek pushed his hips forward, catching Stiles off guard when he plunged hungrily into his mouth.
“Can you take more?” Derek's eyes burned with lust but also flickered with concern.
Stiles didn’t know how Derek could even come again, but he flicked his tongue around the tip with a whiny moan and grinned when Derek snarled in response.
Huge hands gripped his face, pulling him closer. Stiles met the full force of Derek’s cock in his throat, balls pressing into his face, smothering him in all the right ways.
He groaned at the sensation, thrusting his hips up into the air, already teetering on the edge again. Derek’s hand tightened at the back of Stiles’ head, holding him firmly in place as waves of heat and pressure built inside him. His breath hitched and stuttered with every movement.
Stiles’ lips quivered, slick and stretched around Derek’s length. Tears blurred his vision, sliding down his cheeks as he fought the dizzying swirl of pain and pleasure curling inside. His chest heaved unevenly, heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. His own cock twitched, hips bucking in desperate need.
Derek’s growls vibrated through Stiles’ ears as he pushed deeper, each motion igniting a shiver that rattled down his spine, setting every nerve ending aflame. His fingers tangled in Stiles’ hair, gripping and guiding, precise and commanding.
“God, you look so wrecked,” Derek’s voice was rough with desire, pressing a soft kiss to the sticky skin of Stiles’ forehead.
His hips jerked harder, tension building until it snapped. Derek’s body shuddered violently, releasing thick, hot waves deep inside Stiles. The warmth spilled in steady floods, filling every inch of that tight heat.
Stiles gasped, the sudden fullness sparking a fresh fire inside him. His cock twitched and he whimpered around Derek’s length as the wolf pulled back just enough to catch his breath. Then, swallowing carefully and almost reverently, Stiles closed his lips around Derek, taking every last drop.
Derek’s eyes, blazing with hunger and adoration, locked onto Stiles’s gaze.
Slowly, Derek slid from Stiles’ mouth and lowered himself, his tongue tracing gentle strokes over Stiles’s pulsing cock.
Stiles arched his back off the bed, a high keening sound escaping as pleasure rolled through every inch of his body. He was utterly spent and sweetly ruined. Derek’s come was still warm in his mouth, dripping down his cheeks and leaking from his sore ass. The taste, the feel, the closeness engulfed him completely.
Just the sound of Derek humming around his twitching cock pushed Stiles over the edge again. His body curled tight, hips thrusting into Derek’s open, willing mouth as waves of pleasure crashed over him again and again.
“Fuck, I think I need a break,” Stiles gasped with a shaky laugh, finally surrendering to exhaustion as Derek gently maneuvered him around the bed like a rag doll for the millionth time. Derek’s whine vibrated into the back of his neck, his still-hard cock rubbing teasingly against the back of Stiles’ thigh.
Now that Derek had him right where he wanted, Stiles could feel the shift in him. Something primal and possessive burned behind those sharp blue eyes. His wolf was hungry, eager to play with him for hours until Stiles was wrecked, wrung out, and marked in every way Derek knew how.
“I wanna fuck your thighs,” Derek murmured, running a hand over Stiles’ knee and gently forcing his legs to open, sliding between them. Stiles felt his mind unraveling, his body betraying him as he melted against the werewolf.
His doe eyes searched Derek’s, his back pressing closer into that strong chest. “You just wanna come all over me,” he said with a lazy half-smile, body already limp and compliant when Derek pressed his legs together, trapping his aching cock between Stiles thighs.
“And you definitely haven’t been laid in a while if you can come this much,” Stiles added with a tired blink, his eyes struggling to stay open.
The thought of Derek fucking him to sleep floated through his foggy mind, bringing a smile to his lips as he began to drift off. His body shook every time Derek’s cock rubbed between his legs, the foreskin pulling back, dragging deliciously against him as if this was all they’d ever need.
The room was quiet except for the rhythm of Derek’s hot breath against Stiles’ ear. The werewolf was thoroughly satisfied, his teeth sinking into the soft skin at the back of Stiles’ neck as he somehow came again in delicious spurts between his thighs.
——————
Hours later, Stiles drifted back to the world with the bright sun streaming through the open curtains, its light warming his bare back. He let out a contented sigh, lifting his hips high and dramatically smacking his lips together before burying his face in Derek’s soft pillow.
Wait.
Derek’s pillow was curled in his arms. So Derek really had fucked him to sleep last night. It wasn’t some vivid, impossible wet dream after all.
A wild grin spread across Stiles’ face. He wiggled his hips happily, whispering to himself with joy, “Derek Hale totally wanted to toss my salad.” He imagined Scott’s dumbfounded expression if he saw just how thoroughly Derek had ruined him.
His bliss was cut short by the soft creak of the door and the growl rolling in Derek’s throat as the werewolf slipped back into the room. The sheets slid off Stiles’ hips and down his ass, which he couldn’t stop wiggling in excitement.
Fuck. There was no way Derek hadn’t caught him dancing with his ass in the air.
Before embarrassment could settle in, Derek was at the end of the bed. “I canceled training,” he said, each word loaded with a dark promise that made Stiles’s pulse race.
Derek wasted no time, jumping onto the bed and palming Stiles’ cheeks, spreading them apart to eye his still-sensitive, wrecked hole. “I didn’t make breakfast,” Derek grinned wickedly, “but I’m kinda hungry.”
Stiles could only moan as he clenched tight around Derek’s come leaking from inside him. A wet, greedy tongue flicked over his hole in fast, teasing swipes.
“Oh, Stiles baby,” Derek whispered against his skin, “I’m gonna ruin you all over again.”
The promise sent a shiver through Stiles’ entire body, which practically vibrated with anticipation.
They spent the whole morning tangled together, Derek fucking him thoroughly and tenderly, each touch more addictive than the last.
Stiles didn’t regret the mess he made all over the sheets one bit. And somewhere, tucked behind all that pleasure, he smiled at the thought of thanking Scotty later for setting this all in motion.